


[interspace]

by transient_transit



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Body Horror, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outer Space, Science Fiction, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 01:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13847685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transient_transit/pseuds/transient_transit
Summary: The universe is expanding at a rate of about 73.45 kilometres per second per megaparsec, but that doesn't mean that the gaps between things never close.





	1. Chapter 1

_I'll just steal one of the best spaceships in the galaxy,_ Hansol had said, but maybe even one of the best ships in the galaxy couldn't maneouvre her way out of a fight with one of the biggest criminal syndicates in space—especially with all her sisters coming after him.  
   
"-the Dinosaur, I repeat, he is in the Dinosaur. I am putting a bounty of 50,000 thalers on his head; whoever brings him and the ship back to me in one piece will be paid a bounty of 50,000 thalers." The radio shut off and made a crackling noise which turned into a continuous high-pitched whine that lasted until Hansol slammed a palm down on it to shut it up.  
   
Wincing at the ringing in his ears, he turned most of his attention back to the beacon that was taking its sweet time to power up. "Come on, come on, come on," he muttered, and resisted the urge to bang on it in an attempt to make it work faster. It was a delicate instrument, for all that it looked like it had been hacked together with nothing but spare parts and too much coffee.  
   
Though considering its creator and the price Hansol got it for, he wouldn't have been surprised if it was true.  
   
The yellow standby light finally came on and Hansol lurched up and out of his seat to the console, keeping one hand on the steering even as he flicked the autopilot on. It was a gamble; maybe it would let the ship start driving herself back to the planet he'd been escaping from, but Hansol really, really needed to input some coordinates. He stuck the corner of the scrap of paper Seungkwan had given him in his mouth and fumbled with the keypad, gritting his teeth as the ship tumbled narrowly through a gap between some of the orbiting moons.  
   
Hansol braced himself against the bulkhead with his palm and hit the final number with his other hand, letting out a sigh of relief as the beacon blinked green and the ship began to count down in a computerised female voice. "Hyperspace jump initiated. Jumping in 30 seconds."  
   
The computerised voice continued in the background as Hansol checked the ship's numbers, making sure they were on course and travelling swiftly. All in all, he'd done pretty well. The ship was the biggest prize, of course, along with the small cube he'd been asked specifically to get. The unused sections of metal high in lockium he'd give to Jihoon and the others at the junkyard, and if there was anything else leftover that they wanted after revamping the ship, they could have that too.  
   
He'd maybe keep the autopilot, though. It seemed to be just as good as the stories had said.  
   
Just then, there was the sound of a crunch and Hansol was thrown across half the cockpit with a yelp, hitting the other side of the ship with enough force to make him see more stars than just the ones outside his window. He sat up with a groan, distantly hearing the computer report damage to the boosters and the left side of the ship.  
   
As he turned around to try and assess the damage for himself, he saw two spaceships veer off below to either side of him, each coming up slightly ahead. With a start, Hansol realised that the net spread out in the empty area between them was meant for entangling his ship. He staggered to his feet just as the ships began to slow down and pushed the ship to full throttle, switching back to manual steering as he yanked the joystick downwards. Both ships followed him, their net spreading wide in front of him.  
   
Frantic, Hansol cast around for something to delay them, to help him escape, "no, no, no, no-" and then he was through, the chaotically blinding flashes of hyperspace all around him. Hansol pulled his teeth out of his bottom lip and slumped back in the pilot's chair with a sigh of relief, the adrenalin thumping through his heart.  
   
Hansol gave himself a respite of only a few minutes before he pulled himself to his feet to make a call. The junkyard's number was easy to input, being one of the first that Hansol had ever committed to memory, so when it didn't work he only frowned and tried again. It still didn't go through. Hansol dialled Seungkwan's private number next, then Wonwoo's, then Seungcheol's; none of them worked.  
   
Worried now, Hansol pulled up the ship's activity logs to have a look at what was going wrong. He was sure a ship of such a high calibre like this one had at least the most basic of functions that was the ability to call people whilst in hyperspace, so the problem had to lie somewhere else.  
   
But where? Scanning through the pages, Hansol could only see actions that had been performed by either him or the ship. There was nowhere where a third party had interfered—or no record of it, at least.  
   
Frowning, Hansol began running a mental simulation of what the ship had done, in order to try pinpoint where somebody might have gotten into the system or intervened. He hadn't gone very far when he realised that there were a lot of actions taken where there had been no reason for the ship to have performed.  
   
For example, doing a full scan and log of the ship's interior. Making a local map of where the ship had been. Putting a high alert tag on Hansol, something that was usually done by captains of a ship to keep an eye on untrustworthy passengers.  
   
What was going on?  
   
Well. No matter. He'd do a factory reset of all the settings but the ones needed for him to fly now, then get Wonwoo to do a deep clean once he got to the junkyard. That would probably wipe whatever bug was causing the issues, and if it didn't he was certain Wonwoo could dig it out.  
   
It was only a few short taps to get from the ship's logs to the reset settings page. Hansol pulled it up.  
   
"Stop."  
   
He froze, finger hovering, more out of surprise and shock than compliance.  
   
The ship spoke again. "Stop. Stop. Stop," it continued, monotonously, like something out of a horror movie, "stop. Stop. Stop."  
   
"Who are you?" Hansol asked over the noise, not moving his finger from its position above the reboot button. Had he vastly underestimated the scope of the problem? Was there someone on the other side, speaking through the computer?  
   
He closed his eyes. If he had carelessly endangered his friends at the junkyard-  
   
The ship paused, then said, "Me. I am. Chan? Lee. Lee Chan Lee Chan Lee Chan Lee Chan Lee Chan Lee Cha-" It cut off abruptly, whirring. "Sorry. I amIamI'm still getting a hold of myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy (late) snowflower day guys! i'm super happy to be able to add to the growing amount of maknaeline fics; there aren't nearly enough fics about them as main characters! be sure to have a look at the other participants' stuff too
> 
> the number in the summary is from here: https://www.sciencealert.com/lowest-uncertainty-hubble-constant-record-parallax-cepheid-brightness  
> it's about the hubble constant which is a pretty cool concept owo
> 
> i'm also currently on holiday so uhh i'm not exactly sure when next the internet connection will be agreeable enough to upload again + when i might have time to post but uh? soon? probably? sweats i promise i'll be more regular once i get back home


	2. Chapter 2

Chan's head hurt. 

Or rather, it didn't, but Chan was sure that if he had had a head, it would have been hurting. 

Oh god. Chan didn't have a head. That was alarming to think about. Sort of. 

He wasn't really sure how he should be feeling about all of this. 

The ship (him, it was him now) had gotten hit and then it was like he'd suddenly come back into himself, like he'd been daydreaming about something else for ages and ages and ages and now he was finally paying attention to the world around him again. It'd felt like he'd accidentally left some background process running and looked away for a second, but that second had been enough to change his life into something he didn't recognise as his own anymore. 

Chan didn't even remember what it had been like to be a human. There were vague memories of being short and small in the oldest section of his most ancient piece of hardware, filled with distant sounds and smells and voices but it was all so faint and indistinct that it was like the information was coming from the farthest universe instead of from right inside himself. 

Uselessly, he ran another search. Unsurprisingly, nothing more came up. 

(He was a computer now. Computers always remembered everything there was to remember.)

It was just so very _odd_ almost comically so, to wake up suddenly being like this. So surreal. It somehow seemed like he should have arms and legs, even as at the same time he had no idea what that might feel like—though having wings and motors instead didn't seem like a bad or uncomfortable substitution, exactly. They responded to him as well as if he'd been born with them. 

Being a ship just came so naturally. Chan didn't even have to think consciously about doing anything most of the time; he'd just _want_ the ship (himself?) to go faster and then he would be going faster, without any effort at all. He'd wonder how far they'd gone, and then the number would just slide into his mind like it'd always been there, like he'd always known. 

Maybe he did always know, in the part that he'd stolen the captain's seat from, the part that sat patiently back there even now and ran data and numbers all calm and quiet and emotionless. It was so smoothly and seamlessly integrated with the him that was now awake in the cockpit of his head that he didn't know where it ended and he began. 

What was he doing, out here in the middle of hyperspace, with nothing but his name, decades' worth of memory of being a ship, and a passenger? What was he going to do, once the few days inevitably passed and they reached Hansol's friends? 

Chan pulled the majority of his focus to Hansol's room—the room he seemed to have taken as his, anyway, judging by all the stuff piled haphazardly everywhere and the loose, messy curl of his body on the bed, sneakers kicked up on its edge, blankets half hanging off. The sound of him sleeping filtered into Chan's microphones as he breathed, chest rising and falling as his lungs expanded and contracted, transferring the oxygen from the air in the ship to the bloodstream running through Hansol's body. His throat vibrated as he mumbled and shifted his weight, muscles working together to roll his bulk over, twisting the sheets underneath as all the while as his heart thrummed steady and strong. 

It wasn't like Chan had never seen another human being before. There were a lot of recordings of the people who had been on the ship when he had still been… mostly asleep, but it was a little different to be able to see one in the middle of existing, something that he used to know intimately as himself but now seemed so far away from what he was. 

They'd spoken yesterday night, after Chan had been forced to reveal himself to stop Hansol from erasing all his memories. He'd ended up having to fully explain himself: what he remembered (being a ship for a few decades), who he was (no idea), and what he wanted to do now (also no idea). As insurance, he'd also told Hansol about some mutually beneficial tidbits , such as to not call anyone otherwise their location would be revealed and that Chan had inhuman reflexes when it came to piloting what was effectively himself, but had kept some details to himself (such as the fact that Hansol could override him manually at a moment's notice) a secret. 

Even so, Hansol hadn't made any moves to erase him afterwards. It would be so much easier for him to do whatever he wanted if his ship couldn't think for himself, but Hansol hadn't seemed to really mind very much, just nodded along to Chan's words then gone upstairs to take a shower and sleep.

In hindsight, maybe it hadn't been a good idea to tell Hansol so much. Even if he had been terrified and half-panicking at the time. Chan didn't know if he was a good or bad person yet, but at the same time he was inclined to trust someone who had gone against his previous… owners, for lack of a better descriptor. 

Besides, what choice did he really have?

  
  


_________________ 

  
  
  


Hansol woke up some hours later, rolling over to lie on his back with a sigh. The ceiling here was higher than he was used to, the room more spacious, and the bed softer. Somehow he felt farther away from home right now, travelling towards it in a space he had temporarily claimed as his own, than he had for the entire few months prior. 

Home was a space where you belonged, so Hansol tried to make it that, turning his music on loud and drumming his hands to the beat against whatever surface he was near as he hummed and moved through the corridors. It was only after he was halfway through his playlist and morning routine that he remembered who else was here and began to finish up hastily, feeling the embarrassment heat up the tip of his ears. 

He stepped outside the bathroom, finally, and looked up tentatively. "Good morning, Chan?"

"Good morning," Chan replied, as robotically as ever. 

"Uh, I hope I didn't wake you earlier."

"You didn't. I'm always awake." 

"Oh. Okay. That's good. Uh. Sorry for hitting you earlier," he said, nervously running a hand through his bedhead and wishing that there were visible cameras or something he could look at while he spoke. 

"What?"

"When I was tapping my hands against stuff earlier. Listening to my music."

"Oh. That's okay. I don't feel it. I mean, I saw you do it, but I don't mind or anything. It's not like it hurts or damages me, so it's okay." 

"Oh. Okay."

"And your music's fine. It's interesting."

Interesting wasn't the best description, but Hansol had heard his music described in worse ways. He'd take it. "Okay." 

"You should eat."

It appeared that Chan really didn't want to talk to him. "Okay." 

The kitchen was tiny but Hansol had been in tinier, so the lack of space didn't bother him as he moved about collecting a plate and a fork from the dishwasher and some bread from the fridge. The toaster had no buttons and he was afraid he'd have to ask Chan how to operate it but the instant he slid a slice in it lit up in neon red and blue so he figured it was probably toasting. The coffee machine began making some appropriate working noises too when he tried to open what he had assumed was the lid, so Hansol was satisfied to just wait for the appliances to be done. 

There was no jam in sight and Hansol wasn't about to start opening random drawers to look for it so he just ate it plain, chewing between mouthfuls of his coffee. It felt a little more like home without it, really, since there hadn't always been enough for them all at home to have some and maybe any time now he'd hear the others start fighting over whose fault it was that they'd run out. 

"How is it?"

"What?" Hansol tried to ask, but it came out more like "Mmph?"

"The food. I'm. Curious, I guess. About how it tastes. What it feels like." 

He swallowed thoughtfully, then took a much smaller bite out of the bread. "Uhhhhhhhh, it's kind of, hard and crunchy? But soft in the centre. And warm. When you chew, it gets broken up into smaller bits? And it can get dry. That's what the coffee is for. Coffee is also warm, actually. Warmer. And it's a bit bitter? Like, sharp and kind of bad but not really. But also it tastes smooth and creamy and nice. Especially after." Reflexively, he cast his eyes up again. "Uh, I hope that made sense?"

"It was a good description," was the reply, which said nothing about whether it had made any sense or not. "Thank you for trying to explain." 

"…was there anything you'd like me to clarify?"

There was a pause, then, "I'm not sure it's possible to explain, since I don't really have the concept of taste anymore." 

That was kind of heavier than he'd been expecting. "Oh. I see," he replied, already mentally kicking himself for being unable to come up with a better response. 

He could never really seem to come up with the appropriate things to say to Chan. 

The rest of his food was eaten in silence. Chan didn't seem to have anything more to say, and Hansol was quite happy to pretend that eating hampered his ability to talk entirely even as he tried to unravel what had been said. Yesterday, Chan had said that he just felt like a ship now, even though he was sure he'd been a human at some point. Did being curious about taste mean he wanted to become a person again?

Hansol didn't blame the guy. It seemed kind of a rough deal to be a spaceship, especially one where you would routinely be used in spacefights and carrying out under-the-table exchanges. Sure, you were a really good spaceship with the best spaceflight and calculative capabilities, but that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. Even if you were exactly as good as a person, better even as a person with a spaceship for a body. 

Maybe _that_ was why they were the best spaceships in the galaxy. Huh. For every one of them to have been people under all that explained a lot about what they could do, certainly. 

Chan had probably just been some dude. Living his life out normally before he got brainzapped into a ship, or whatever had happened to him. And now he was stuck out in hyperspace with a guy he didn't know, with no memory of who he even used to be. A guy who didn't even know how to talk to him, much less deal with the identity crisis he was probably going through. 

He'd just been a normal human being. 

"Hey, Chan?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for never knowing what to say other than "oh" and "okay" a lot of the time. I don't really know what you're thinking about a lot of the time, and I, I'm not that good at thinking of others. I don't know you but so far you've been pretty nice to me, so I'm trying to be nice back? But I don't really know what nice means for you. So uh, I'm just kind of saying, tell me maybe if I'm doing something wrong or I can do something for you. Just ask me? Or give me some really obvious clues or something, because there's no way I'm gonna figure it out on my own."

He looked up towards the ceiling and found a dent to focus his eyes on. "Uh, so if you're mad at me can you tell me what I did wrong? So I don't keep doing it or do it again or anything. Or maybe you just don't want to talk to me I guess that's fine too. Just, tell me that. Please." 

There was another silence. Hansol tried to interpret it without success. 

"Sorry for always sounding blunt. I can't really make different sounds than the ones that have been programmed into me, so sometimes I can't always sound like what I mean. I just sound like a machine all the time. I promise I'm not- I try to sound friendly sometimes but I don't think I can get it across. I haven't been mad at you for anything at all." 

Hansol let out the breath he had been holding. "Okay. I'm- it's good I haven't done anything wrong to you. But tell me if I ever do? So I can fix it?" 

"Yeah. Sure." 

"Okay. Friends?" 

"Friends."


	3. Chapter 3

"Friends," Chan had replied, with an odd feeling that he didn't know how to describe, and a millionth of a second's hesitation that Hansol hopefully hadn't picked up on. 

It wasn't that he didn't want to be on good terms with Hansol, or that he didn't like him, but Chan was very acutely aware of who was in control in this situation. Quite possibly, it was all an act to get Chan to let his guard down until they reached Hansol's friends—or maybe they weren't even going to a junkyard but somewhere completely different with something completely different waiting at their destination. 

Chan didn't have a choice in any of it. Of course, that wasn't any different from how he'd apparently been living so far. 

Though if it was an act, it was a very good one. Hansol seemed to loosen up, seemed to let _his_ guard down, seemed to stop worrying about whatever was going to happen and just lounged around alternatively talking to Chan and knitting, describing his every meal and snack as he went along ("Pancakes are soft? And they have air inside them, so when you bite and the syrup squelches out, it gets everywhere in your mouth and it's good. So so so good."). 

It all seemed so terribly casual. Chan almost felt more on edge just because it was so easy and safe and simple, except he was relatively sure nothing was escaping his notice and he was definitely constantly paying attention to what Hansol was doing. He hadn't even touched the console after that first time, had stayed completely away from the control room and just asked Chan for any information he wanted to know. 

Whatever it was, Hansol quickly took up an awful habit of asking Chan literally anything that popped into his head.  
  
_  
"Hey Chan, what's your favourite colour?"_

_"Mmm… I don't know. It's just light. I'm fine with any."_

_"Lights can be pretty, though."_

_"I guess. What's yours then?"_

_"Ah… I like green I guess? It's very lush and bright. Full of life."_  
  
  
It wasn't annoying, exactly. It was just always so sudden, and Chan didn't always know how he should respond.  
  
_  
"Hey Chan, what's it like to fly?"_

_"What's it like?"_

_"How does it feel, I guess."_

_"…easy? It's like, I just think 'Okay, I should go forward' and then I just do? There's um, something like a manual inside my head? I just think about it and then I know how to do it and then it's done."_

_"Oh. Is it fun?"_

_"Sure? I mean it's not really fun or boring. It just kind of is."_

_"What about going really fast?"_

_"It's the same, I guess?"_

_"Have you ever tried to do a loop de loop? Fly upside down?"_

_"Yeah, some evasive measures need me to do that."_

_"I see…"_  
  
  
It would be easier if he knew what the "right answer" was so he could decide if he wanted to respond that way, but he didn't even know what Hansol wanted to hear most of the time. When he did know what to say, it was always a relief.  
  
_  
"Ah, sorry, should I turn the music down?"_

_"Nah, it's fine."_

_"You sure?"_

_"Yeah. It's good."_  
  
  
Sometimes, he didn't even know how he really felt about anything, just tried to navigate as best as he felt he should in the moment. There were just so many questions to consider, and Chan hadn't been awake long enough to think about any of them as much as he'd like.  
  
_  
"Hey Chan, what do you think of the universe?"_

_"What does that even mean?"_

_"…do you like it?"_

_"…"_

_"…"_

_"I can't not like the universe. I live here. It's here and I'm in it, for good or for bad. So, neutral? I don't know. I haven't even really done anything yet."_

_"That's true, I guess. We should do something fun sometime, maybe."_

_"Yeah, sure."_  
  
  
Hansol in general was just confusing. In his actions, his motives, his everything. Chan couldn't figure out why he cared enough to keep this up.  
  
_  
"Hey Chan, do you. Uh, you don't have to answer if you don't want to."_

_"What is it?"_

_"Do you like being a ship?"_

_"…hmmm."_

_"Sorry if it's a weird question or if you didn't really want to think about it."_

_"No, it's okay. Um. It's fine, I guess? It feels normal to be like this."_

_"Do you want to be human again?"_

_"That's… I think it's impossible, so I don't want to consider it."_  
  
  
It was much too easy to get sucked into Hansol's latest line of questioning and tell him more than was probably wise.  
  
_  
"Hey Hansol, what do_ you _think of the universe?"_

_"It's very big and very beautiful and home to many amazing things. There's so much to see. It never ends."_  
  
  
And when Chan turned the questions back on him, he found he couldn't read Hansol's answers. He always answered so earnestly but there was just something underlying in his answers that Chan felt like he couldn't grasp, something _more_ that he didn't understand. 

  
_  
"Hey Hansol, what's your favourite food?"_

_"Food… I think, instant noodles."_

_"What, really? Out of every food in the universe, you like instant noodles the most?"_

_"Yeah…"_

_"…what do they taste like?"_

_"Soft. Salty. Kind of chewy. Smooth?"_

_"…"_

_"…it tastes better than it sounds."_

_"I would hope so."_  
  
  
Hansol always acted like the things Chan were asking deserved his full consideration, like they were close friends, like he cared what Chan actually thought.  
  
_  
"Hey Chan, do you remember anything about being a human?"_

_"Not really. Why?"_

_"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to try finding who you were with before… all this, I guess. When you were still a human. I have some friends, I could ask them to have a look for me. But I guess you don't really remember anything."_

_"…yeah. Thanks for the offer, I guess."_

_"If you do ever randomly remember anything, the offer's still open, yeah?"_  
  
  
It was… hard, to keep away. Hansol was the first person Chan had ever even really met, properly.  
  
_  
"Hey, Hansol, what's your life like? What's... what do you do usually when you're not doing this?"_

_"I travel."_

_"So heists aren't a normal thing for you then?"_

_"Not really?"_

_"So tell me about a typical day."_

_"I wake up, eat breakfast. Depending on where I am, I stay in and knit or listen to music or watch movies. If I'm on a planet, I go out and walk around."_

_"Ah."_

_"Did you expect something else?"_

_"Hmmmmm… I'm not sure what I expected."_  
  
  
But they still hadn't arrived at the junkyard, and Chan would not, could not let himself trust it.  
  
_  
"Hey Chan, how do you feel about maybe getting remodelled?"_

_"Remodelled? What do you mean by that?"_

_"Well, from the start I'd planned to get whatever ship I took to the junkyard so we could. Y'know, disguise it a little maybe? New coat of paint, change the shape a little, give it a new name and a new registration number. Otherwise I didn't think I could fly anywhere without immediately getting recognised and taken down. Do you… how do you feel about that?"_

_"Oh, that makes a lot of sense. We should do that. What's wrong?"_

_"Oh I just… I thought you'd be more opposed to it? Since it is… you and we'd be. Doing stuff to your body I guess. I didn't know if you'd like that. I didn't like, expect…"_

_"Nah, I don't really mind. It's more like… clothes than my body. Sort of. Maybe."_

_"I see… Would you like to choose the new design, maybe? Since it's like, you and everything. You can get whatever you want?_

_"I… yeah, sure. Thanks."_

_"No problem, dude."_  
  
  
Not yet.  
  
_  
"Hey Hansol, why aren't you scared I'll just take over the whole ship and do whatever I want with you inside it?"_

_"Ummmm. I think, if you were gonna do that, it would've been the thing you did first? I would've been no match; you're the ship I'm living in. But you didn't and you tried to talk to me and stuff even when you were scared I was going to delete you. So I figure you're probably not going to try and do something to me now."_

_"And that's okay? You're okay with that?"_

_"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"_  
  
  
Not now.  
  
_  
"Hey, you should go to bed. It's late._

_"...okay, yeah. You're right. I'll go after this episode."_

_"That's what you said an hour ago."_

_"Okay. I- yeah, okay. Thanks."_

_"Don't worry about it."_  
  
  
He couldn't.  
  
_  
"Hey Chan, what are you going to do after we reach the junkyard?"_

_"...I haven't really thought about it. I don't know."_

_"You can always just stay? If you like it there, I mean. We wouldn't mind if you stayed. We're just… a mix of people from everywhere, too. It'd be fine. Seungcheol'd take care of you for sure. If you wanted it."_

_"Okay. Thanks for the offer."_

_"Think about it, yeah?"_  
  
  
Not yet.  
  
_  
"Hey Hansol."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Your music sucks."_

_"Oh."_

_"I'm just kidding. It's really grown on me."_  
  
  



End file.
